Dad is Back From a Deserted Island - Chapter 65

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Father has returned from the Deserted Island
Chapter 65

Even after summoning the Doctor, I could discern no clear diagnosis.
Only vague assertions that my body was congenitally frail, and the peculiar observation that my body temperature ran abnormally low.
Ah, the Doctor had been brought here at considerable expense—a sum Jean de Lamber knew he could not refuse.
The Doctor, trembling at the prospect of examining a demon, found his courage the moment Jean de Lamber named his price, resolving to complete the examination and depart for another region immediately thereafter.
Even a day after the Doctor fled, I had not yet managed to open my eyes.
Jean de Lamber departed to extract information from the locals by any means necessary, while the Castle Steward excused himself to clear away the falling snow.
Only Vivian remained at my side.
There was no particular obligation binding her to me, yet Vivian—knowing that solitude only deepens sorrow when one is afflicted—could not bring herself to abandon my bedside.
“Sigh. This is hardly the time for this.”
I needed to ask if she knew any method to awaken the sleeping Egg; if she did not, I would have to search for other clues and depart.
Vivian understood well enough that Jean de Lamber could not afford to be away for long, and her anxiety mounted.
“Then when is the time?”
“Father!”
At the sudden cry, Vivian jolted upright in alarm.
As she steadied her racing heart and looked down, she found me gazing at her with eyes that had opened without a sound.
“Y-you startled me! When did you… are you feeling any better?”
Without answering, I gazed at Vivian, then suddenly smiled with my eyes.
My previously cold expression softened in an instant, and Vivian’s face flushed crimson.
“Your face has turned red.”
“Y-yours too… no, wait. That’s just fever making you flushed!”
As Vivian fanned herself against the oppressive warmth, she realized the heat was emanating from me. She pressed her hand to my forehead and gasped in shock.
“You’re burning up like a coal! Stay here for a moment!”
The body that had been ice-cold was now fevering intensely. I had kept the room warm precisely because my temperature had been dangerously low.
Vivian rose urgently and cracked open the window she had sealed shut. Fortunately, though the weather was cold enough for snow, there was no wind.
After opening the window to allow cool air to circulate, Vivian fetched clean water and dampened a cloth.
She wrung out the dripping cloth and placed it upon my forehead, only then able to draw a relieved breath.
“You’re quite skilled at this. You must have done it many times before.”
“I haven’t done it myself… but I’ve received such care often. When Father would fall ill and take to bed, he would neglect his work and do this instead—”
Vivian, speaking without self-consciousness, suddenly fell silent.
She could not fathom why words flowed so naturally, as though speaking to someone she had long known. Yet she did not even know this man’s name.
“Do this?”
“He would care for me this way. He said this is what you do for someone who is ill.”
Jean de Lamber was truly a devoted father. Whenever Vivian fell ill with influenza, he would set aside his accumulated work and devote himself entirely to her care.
He opened the window to let fresh air circulate, carefully wiped away the cold sweat beading on my skin, and when I refused to eat due to lack of appetite, he personally fed me spoonfuls of cold, sweet sorbet.

‘You don’t have to hide being sick. Vivian. Why would you hide it when Dad is here?’
‘But, Dad… you’re so busy…’
‘What? Vivian, Dad works hard precisely so he can take good care of our princess when she’s ill! So feel free to be as spoiled as you want. Is there anything else you’d like to eat?’
‘I want more sorbet.’
‘Sorbet? If you eat too much sweet stuff, your teeth will rot—but since you’re sick, just this once, alright?’

Whenever Jean de Lamber’s large hand swept back my sweat-dampened hair, I felt such reassurance.
That’s why Vivian found the figure before her—no, this person—all the more pitiful.
It was painfully obvious that he had lived without ever having anyone to turn to when he was sick, let alone someone to indulge his complaints.
“Your fever is far too high. I think you need to take medicine. Since taking it on an empty stomach can upset your stomach, I’ll bring something you can eat. I’ve already prepared soup for you anyway.”
Vivian had been buying up every medicine the fleeing Doctor had in stock.
Jean de Lamber—or rather, Vivian—couldn’t bear the sight of him eating from such a sparse, impoverished table, so he had brought back ingredients from the Market, and the Kitchen, which had only been gathering dust, was now full.
Since she had prepared soup separately for when the patient woke, she planned to simply reheat it and bring it.
“Don’t go. Medicine isn’t necessary.”
“Pardon?”
“Instead, stay and tell me about yourself.”
“About myself?”
“Yes. It’s been so long… I want to hear your voice.”
He was someone who reminded her of the boy from her dreams in so many ways. Diti too had always begged to hear her stories.
It meant he hadn’t encountered someone in a long time who wouldn’t flee in fear upon seeing him. Vivian’s resolve softened, and she found herself inexplicably irritated with everyone else.
‘He’s perfectly fine, so why do people call him a demon or whatever? He’s just someone starved for affection—sick and beautiful, that’s all.’
So Vivian rose from her seat, deliberately speaking in a gentler tone.
“No, your fever is too high. I can’t allow it. But I’ll be back very soon, so please wait just a moment.”
“…Alright.”
Vivian hurried down the Stairs, and not long after, Jean de Lamber entered.
“Princess, Dad’s here.”
Having somehow missed Vivian on the way, Jean de Lamber called out her name as he opened the door, only to be startled by the brilliant crimson gaze fixed upon him.
The Emperor—who had once looked upon him with indifferent eyes and pronounced a sentence of life imprisonment—had awakened.
‘It’s alright. I’m not the criminal I was then, and he’s not yet the Emperor.’
Jean de Lamber felt sweat seeping into his palms and wiped them nervously on his trousers.
“…You’ve awakened.”
“…”
No response came.
Though he had asked Vivian all manner of questions, he clamped his mouth shut like an oyster.
“How is your body feeling?”
“My daughter was here—did she step away for a moment?”
“…Do you perhaps have difficulty speaking?”
After receiving only silence no matter what he said, Jean de Lamber had no choice but to ask this.
Since nothing had been revealed about the Emperor, couldn’t he have suffered from mutism in his childhood?
‘Still, he could at least gesture to indicate he couldn’t speak.’
As my sympathy for my daughter, who had shared a space with such a man, deepened, Vivian returned carrying a tray.
“I’ve brought some medicine and food for you. Oh? Father! When did you arrive?”
“Vivian! Did you prepare all of this yourself? You should have told me.”
“How was I supposed to know you were coming? His fever is quite high, so he needs to take the medicine quickly.”
“Thank you.”
“…!”
Jean de Lamber thought he was hearing things.
‘He’s speaking perfectly fine?’
The man who had ignored Jean de Lamber’s words with such suspicion of his own hearing was now expressing gratitude, and Jean de Lamber froze. Vivian glanced at him with a puzzled expression before bringing the tray to the bedside.
Her gentle voice followed.
“It wasn’t too heavy, was it?”
“Oh, this is nothing.”
Watching Vivian caution him about the soup being hot, he even managed a faint smile.
Jean de Lamber’s jaw dropped.
‘What on earth is this man?’

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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